


in the attic of the universe

by luciferTM



Series: the oiyama agenda [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, i got to write yamaguchi with glowing freckles, major achievement unlocked, seijou is there... and also part of karasuno..., this is mostly an atlantis AU! but! i also drew inspiration from castle in the sky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferTM/pseuds/luciferTM
Summary: “I’m sorry. I just--I saw them!”“Oikawa, not right now,” Iwaizumi says.“No, listen, I sawpeople,” he sputters. “Atlanteans. Well, I only saw the face of one of them, but--they were real--realer than any book could have prepared me for.”“Real like that, you mean?” Iwaizumi asks, staring pointedly behind Oikawa.Oikawa spins round to find himself facing a gleaming spear for the second time that day.Or: Oiyama Atlantis AU.





	in the attic of the universe

**Author's Note:**

> _waltzes in eight months after oiyama week, which i was co-running, with one of the prompts i had prepared and was supposed to finish for it_  
> 
> Hi.
> 
> i don't have starbucks, only sincere apologies for my slowness and love for these two.
> 
> this fic is dedicated to [nina](https://twitter.com/sugar_levels) for being supportive and kind about my oiyama fics, and encouraging me every time i tweet-wheezed about writer's block. it honestly made a difference to know that you appreciated them and were looking forward to this.
> 
> and as always thank you so much, [lynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silpium/pseuds/silpium), for letting me ramble and complain, and not blinking at the most embarrassing typos. i love you.
> 
> quick note: i use they/them pronouns for yamaguchi… because i could. i’ve always really liked the idea of nb yamaguchi. i’m so glad i had the occasion to write it. atlantean society is much more open-minded than, er, the one down on earth, something oikawa is aware of, so i think it’s consistent with his pov. i would have used they/them pronouns for the other atlanteans as well by default but i was afraid of it becoming confusing-- and the rest of them are all boys in this.

Oikawa struggles to gather his senses.  
Monsters swim in his vision, bright-eyed and hard-faced, sharp teeth and flowing fur, sounds and syllables that slip away before he fathoms the words. One of them points the edge of a spear in his direction, and he recoils.  
He winces as pain shoots through his shoulder. Craning his neck to look, he catches the dark stain of blood underneath his shirt. His consciousness comes back with the jackknife pounding of blood in his temples.  
They lower their weapons. _Atlanteans_ , he thinks in a flash of clarity. He can recognize the motifs on their masks and remembers how he must have landed here, a jolt of the mind that only makes his head spin with more questions. One of them, the one with the spear, draws close. They raise a hand. Oikawa instinctively shrinks back again, stifling a yelp as his back hits the rock he landed near. 

Slowly, instead of reaching for him again, the Atlantean’s hand moves towards their mask. They raise it, uncovering their face. Oikawa’s gaze is riveted by the freckles dotting their tan skin, the long hair tied to the back of their neck. They firmly hold Oikawa against the rock while maintaining eye contact.

With their other hand, they pull at Oikawa’s shirt, baring his shoulder. They take the crystal tied around their neck and hold it against his skin. A hot flush hits Oikawa’s veins, and he gasps. His skin burns a chilling blue under the pressed hand of the Atlantean. Their eyes, complicit now, glow the same pale blue, pinpricks of light dusting their cheeks. They smile at him.  
The hand is gone in an instant, and so is the pain.  
So is the warmth.

In the corner of his eye, he spots the brush of a flashlight hitting his side, turns his head. In an instant, the Atlanteans scurry off, slip away, beyond his grasp.

“Wait,” he calls out, extends a belated hand. “Don’t go!”

He rises to his feet and chases after them, spurred on by sheer desperation, ignoring the ache over his entire body informing him that he may have made it out alive, but certainly not bruise-free. 

He was so close--  
They were so _close_ \--

He had spent his life running after shadows--he wouldn’t give up now that one of them had looked back at him.

He jumps from one piece of rubble to another without slowing down, biting his lower lip at the way his limbs protest. He doesn’t even stop for Iwaizumi, who had pointed the flashlight at him, but grabs the mechanic’s calloused hand instead and drags him behind. “Oikawa, what the-- _hey!_ ”

“Questions later! Glad you’re alive!”

Testy groan notwithstanding, Iwaizumi doesn’t ask any more questions and falls into pace without letting go of his hand.

They are in a cave, a huge storage facility by the looks of the amenities scattered across the ground, and mixed with huge chunks of metal that form the silhouette of a plane wreckage-- their plane. The realization only causes Oikawa to move faster as memories of the crash flicker through his mind. Their plane took on the full brunt of the storm, so they had made a split second decision that didn’t give him the chance to get a good look. On top of that, the city had been shrouded by mist. But it had to be Atlantis--and he’d fainted like a fool--  
Oikawa accelerates again, dashing straight toward blinding daylight.

He collides head first with Yahaba, while Iwaizumi jerks back and almost falls backward.

“Shit--”

Oikawa spots Hinata a few meters away, kneeling in the middle of what used to be his cockpit, a mournful look on his face. _The Little Giant is the sturdiest, most resilient plane ever built_ , he said to Oikawa on their first meeting. And indeed: the plane’s unique features are the reasons they are all still breathing. 

Oikawa leans against Yahaba to stand back up, holding him by the shoulder as he exclaims:

“I’m sorry. I just--I saw them!”

“Oikawa, not right now,” Iwaizumi says.

“No, listen, I saw _people, _” he sputters. “Atlanteans. Well, I only saw the face of one of them, but--they were real--realer than any book could have prepared me for.”__

____

“Real like that, you mean?” Iwaizumi asks, staring pointedly behind Oikawa.

Oikawa spins round to find himself facing a gleaming spear for the second time that day.  
He only saw a handful of warriors inside the cave, and his team was now surrounded.

They had reached the real entrance to the shelter--opposite to the one they blasted open by crash landing. And the Atlanteans had come at them from both sides. _Smart._

“Oh, hello, again,” he greets, raising his hands in the air in what he hopes to be a sufficient show of surrender. “We don’t mean any harm. We would just like to become acquainted with you and your wonderful city. We’ve come a long way.” He adds in a low voice to the attention of his team: “Drop your weapons.”

Hanamaki huffs behind him. “What weapons?”

“The gun that’s probably hidden in your boot, for example,” Oikawa answers pleasantly.

“Killjoy. That was in case we met any flying snakes. You said there could be flying snakes.”

Oikawa opens his mouth for an appropriately indignant retort at that--he never said there would be flying snakes, he said there were recollections of such a creature in the myths, which isn’t the _same thing_ , but the masked figure beats him to it.

“We don’t have any flying snakes,” they say. They take their mask off, and Oikawa’s heart clenches as he recognizes the person he saw earlier, their lips twitching into a smile. “Sorry to disappoint. But we would appreciate you dropping your weapons.” 

“Well,” Oikawa quips, “I knew that.” The Atlantean stares, still smiling, brows arching a little. “And yes, of course.” Oikawa hears the sound of several objects clattering to the ground behind him and forces a smile.

“You speak Japanese?” Kindaichi marvels.

“Yes, as I’ve explained _about_ a hundred times,” Oikawa says slowly, “the Atlantean language likely takes root in--”

“Whatever, drop it with the history lessons already,” Kyoutani interrupts. “We get the real thing.”

“We should go back up,” one of the Atlantean suggests. He grins, a glint to his eyes that’s enticing and menacing all at once despite his short stature. “We’ll give you the real thing, alright.”

The crew follows his gaze to find, against the side of the city, thick vines laced together into a sturdy-looking ladder.

“Just like that? Is this some sort of ploy to get us to get rid of us?” Hanamaki deadpans. 

Another Atlantean, with short brown hair, crosses his arms over his chest. “Would you do anything that warrants _getting rid of_?”

“No, sir.”

“Relax, leader,” the short boy says. “If anything happens, we act then, and that’s that.”

It may seem like an oddly relaxed stance, but the tranquil way he says it leaves Oikawa no doubt that it’s a show of confidence, not one of negligence.

“Yeah,” another one with a shaved head quips without being prompted, practically showing teeth, “you better behave or else--”

The hand of the brown haired Atlantean who spoke earlier falls upon his shoulder. 

“--you won’t be our guests anymore, which is what you are now, guests,” he finishes quickly, back ramrod straight.

“Thank you,” Oikawa responds without missing a beat. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” the leader says without removing his hand. “But I agree this isn’t the place. We should keep the introductions for later. We have to let everyone know that the situation’s been handled.”

“Is there anything that could be salvaged from the crash?” Oikawa asks Iwaizumi. He receives a pointed look as his beloved leather bag is shoved against his chest. “Oh, thank god. Wait--you went to find this _before you thought to look for me?_ ”

“Don’t sweat the details. I found it on the way.”

Oikawa harrumphs.

“We had most of our belongings with us, fortunately,” Watari explains to the whole group.

“Except for a _certain someone_ who decided to lean out of the detachable window before we collided with the cave, like a moron,” Iwaizumi comments dryly.

“I can’t help that the moment we were closest to the city happened to precede crash-landing,” Oikawa protests. “I wanted the view.” 

Iwaizumi strides toward the ladder with the air of someone who’s trying to decide at what better time he could shove Oikawa off of it.

Oikawa meets the eyes of the Atlantean who healed him. He takes a few steps toward them, and they match his movement with a curious gaze.

“I don’t think you mean for any harm to come to my companions, but…" Oikawa starts. "I have to ask. Is this really safe?” 

“It’s perfectly safe,” they assure him. “This ladder is solid, and we even use it to haul up the supplies stored in the caves. Staying here is actually more dangerous--or it was until a few moments ago. We use this place for storage because this type of rock is really conductive in case of a storm.”

“ _Conductive_ , you mean,” Watari inquires innocently, “if there’s lightning?”

The whole of Oikawa’s crew turns to look at Matsukawa. Their engineer is absorbed in the modifying of something that looks suspiciously akin to an antenna. He interrupts his tinkering, clears his throat.

“I’ll… keep that for later, then.”

“We’re going to climb after you,” the Atlantean’s leader announces. “That way, if anyone loses their balance, we can come help.”

“Or catch you if you slip,” the shorter boy adds. He sounds delighted by the prospect.

As they form a beeline for the ladder, Oikawa pulls Hinata aside, ensuring that they end up close together. 

“Are you sure that nobody could have followed us?” he asks in a low voice, taking his first, experimental hoist up the side of Atlantis.

Hinata peers at him quizzically. He doesn’t slow down in his climb. “Of course. We managed to lose them during the storm, remember?”

“I remember. I just wanted to hear it from you.”

Hinata’s vague look shifts into sharp focus.

“Unless they have the same maps we do, plus someone as knowledgeable about this place as you, they can’t reach this place,” he declares. “I’m sure of it. And as far as I know, you’re the only Atlantis expert.”

Oikawa lets out the breath he had been holding. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Can I go now?” Hinata asks. Certainly not something that should be said so naturally while dangling thousands of feet up in the air, but Oikawa has learned to expect this sort of antics coming from him.

“Sure, have fun!”

Hinata lets out a whooping sound, and he uses the rocks to propel himself faster, climbing on the side so he passes everyone with a defiant grin. 

“That is _not_ a challenge, nobody else try that, or I’ll kick your ass all the way back to Japan,” Oikawa hears Iwaizumi say. “For Christ’s sake.”

“He’s skilled,” the Atlantean leader remarks, while the one whose height almost matches Hinata cackles and bellows, “Not bad! I like you already!”

Hinata reaches the top in a blink and cheers them on with enthusiastic waves and shouts. Watari and Matsukawa lag slightly behind Iwaizumi, carrying themselves carefully but confidently enough. Oikawa finds himself in the middle, wedged between their group and Yahaba, Kyoutani, and Hanamaki.

“This is where I’m glad I’m not afraid of heights,” Yahaba mutters.

“Why would you take part in this expedition in the first place if you’re afraid of heights?” Iwaizumi fires back. He is already halfway.

“‘m not scared, but I don’t like them either,” Kyoutani grumbles.

“Want me to hold your hand?” Yahaba offers.

“Fuck off,” Kyoutani bites back without any heat. 

Hanamaki, stuck behind them, sighs. “You do know that the faster you move, the faster you’ll be able to flirt with your feet firmly planted on solid ground? Much more comfortable, in my opinion.”

Oikawa decides that is his cue to pick up the pace. 

Sure enough, a few seconds later, a shudder runs through the ladder, followed by the sound of Yahaba snarling, and Oikawa grits his teeth as his foot scraped the empty space between two ladders.

Loud and clear, he calls out, eyes pinned to the rock in front of him: “You may think I’m just a bookworm, but if I get killed by your antics right before taking my first real look at Atlantis, I _promise_ I will find all of you in the afterlife, and it will not be for a mere lecture.”

The ladder remains blissfully still after that, but he hears someone snicker below. He turns his head and glimpses at the long-haired Atlantean. They’re grinning.

“Eyes up here, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi calls out. Oikawa realizes he stopped climbing. “You’re gonna experience vertigo if you look down.”

Oikawa hisses beneath his breath, but can hardly retort.

He does feel a little dizzy.

 

 

 

Oikawa hoists himself up for the last time, grabbing the hand Matsukawa has lowered to his level, and staggers to his feet.  
Matsukawa gives him a thin smile and turns around to greet the same view. 

The mist parts to reveal an enormous city of layered buildings, the streets rings of carved rock falling atop each other, each growing smaller and smaller the higher they become. Garden beds hang between buildings, bursting with colors that catch and capture the eye. Flowers, like waves to a sea, bend in the breeze blown by the sigh of machines, green grass shines lush against the stone, and the trees snake alongside intricate constructions. Water flows freely, wells to conducts to streams to rivulets on arms of stark white cement.

“Welcome to Atlantis,” someone says behind Oikawa. "Anything like you imagined?"

He cannot even begin to form an answer. His mind his reeling with a thousand thoughts at once. Scribbles, theories, wobbling spots on sheets of papers where young dreams crash over the old that he couldn't dare to leave a trace on, much less carve his presence into. Memories of presenting thesis after thesis in front of stiff-collared academics with smiling lips and mouths full of lies. Without Iwaizumi, he would have lost his sanity long before finding the team that helped realize his wildest certainty.

 _Atlantis is a myth,_ said Oikawa's own uncle one week before departure, _and I expected better from you. You could do things, great things. Make a difference in the world. You've decided to chase smoke. We will no longer support you when you don't find anything to lean against in order to move forward as a functional adult._

Oikawa stands perfectly still, breathing slow, until he dares to believe his senses at last.

He kneels to the ground and presses a palm against it.

“We made it, we--we’re here,” he stammers, disbelief blowing away, fingers wrapping around a fitful of grass. “You were all wrong! Take that! I _told you_ we could do it!” He lets out a breathless peal of laughter that stops and then starts again, louder. "Who’re the losers _now_?"

“He’s losing it,” Matsukawa says somewhere behind him.

“Knew it was only a matter of time,” Hanamaki says.

“He’s allowed to,” Yahaba says. “We did make it this far, and we could never have, without him… Hey, what’s that weird windmill looking thing?”

They break into excited chatter. Oikawa tunes them out. It's nothing he doesn't already know.

He could reproduce any of the miraculously preserved drawings of the city in his sleep. He had made some of the unique cement they used for houses himself, could explain the complexities of the irrigation system to someone like Hinata, and had written essay after essay describing the many inventions Atlanteans had come up with to deal with abrupt climatic changes, including drastic exposure to sunlight. But those were still lines, studious conjectures. The city he finds is bustling and brimming with activity. Atlantis doesn't just exist-- it's _alive_ , like he had always known.

He bites down a snicker. _What kind of foolish thoughts…_

He doesn't know. He has learned bits and pieces from second-hand sources and while it had, somehow, been enough to bring everyone here in one piece, it doesn't make this city his even for a second. Did his head sink so deep into parchment he forgot as essential a fact?

The city’s rumor carries over with the wind. For the first time in years, something inside of him goes very quiet.

He turns his attention back to the group. Kyoutani is comparing tattoos with the Atlantean who tried to intimidate them earlier, and from the way those two snap quick retorts at each other, they seem to have already won the other’s begrudging respect. Hinata is explaining something to the small Atlantean who complimented him earlier, waving his hands around wildly, and the smaller boy is laughing. Oikawa also spots Iwaizumi conversing at length with a boy whose hair shines silver in the light, someone he strangely hadn't noticed before, despite their strong presence.  
The last two Atlanteans, one with droopy eyelids and sleek black hair, one with mused straw-blond hair and almond eyes, are drawing something on the ground as the rest of his crew watches. Oikawa thinks with a tinge of irritation that they never seemed as enraptured listening to _his_ complex explanations, but oh well. 

“You okay there?” asks someone behind him. It's their leader. “Just finished reporting, and I see you over there, just…” he gives a pointed look.

Oikawa rises to his feet. “I’m fine, it's only… quite a sight.”

“I would tell you that's how newcomers usually react, but we aren't in the habit of receiving guests around here, so forgive us if our manners are a bit rusty.”

“You don't say.”

The Atlantean brings a hand to his nape, thoughtful. “In fact, you're the first outsiders in… at least a few hundred years.”

“Speaking from experience?”

The look on his face is bewildered. “I’m eighteen.”

“Oh. Well I mean, I’ve heard strange things about your source of energy, and--it was a fair assumption.”

Oikawa hears a light snicker from his side. 

The Atlantean who rescued him in the cave smiles faintly at him. "Hello again."

As though on cue, the Atlantean leaves at one of his companion's call before Oikawa gets the chance to introduce himself, but it can wait. He isn't complaining.

"Thank you for earlier," Oikawa says then. "For healing me."

"You're welcome. Just glad there was something we could heal," they say, with a touch of humor that leaving Oikawa wondering if they're saying that they were happy to help, or that Oikawa should be happy he was in one piece.

Their eyes meet.

 _Both_ , Oikawa thinks.

They have Hinata’s aviator glasses on, the rim of shining bronze shadowing their gaze.

“You have those, too,” they remark.

Oikawa reflectively raises a hand to his glasses. Sweat had somehow glued them to his face, and by a stroke of some insane luck, they had only been cracked by his fall. They had been a part of his attire for so long that he hadn’t even noticed he still had them on. _That’s what happens when night after night you look at old maps and reports holed up in your attic with nothing more than a flashlight,_ Iwaizumi had said when Oikawa had first shown up with them. _You’re just jealous because they make me look more mature,_ Oikawa had said. _As if,_ Iwaizumi had said (definitely jealous). “Ah… yeah. Look, I have so much to ask you--”

“And I have so much to ask _you_ ,” the Atlantean retorts.

“I risked my life to come here. I go first.”

They chuckle and push the glasses back and into their hair. A few strands fall back into their eyes; they shake their head a little so their vision isn’t obscured. The gesture is one Oikawa has seen Hinata do many times--the Atlantean must be mimicking it. It had never made his stomach do that odd loop before. “Alright,” they say. “What do you want to know?”

Oikawa expected for a number of questions to rise to his lips. He has a whole list prepared, in fact, a whole notebook’s worth. 

The person in front of him does not elicit his curiosity for the reasons he expected. Oikawa’s first instinct is not to think as them as belonging to Atlantis, or to think of Atlantis as belonging to them, though both are true. They are a world of their own as much as anyone else--quiet stares and soothing touch, questioning gaze and discreet chuckles, light coursing through their veins, all of it wonderful, all of it unknown.

“What’s your name?”

Their lips stretch into a smile, slow and small and bright, and Oikawa knows he picked the right one.

**Author's Note:**

> yamaguchi: *letting down their hair and tying their cloth tightly around their waist to swim more easily*  
> oikawa:  
> yamaguchi: … distracted?  
> oikawa: H-- well you’re the one who’s-- distracting.  
> yamaguchi: *chuckles* yeah, right. well… are you coming in or not?
> 
>  
> 
> _(oikawa strips at light speed)_
> 
>  
> 
> so the plot is uh… mainly atlantis-based but atlantis itself resembles laputa because hinata wanted to fly and i’m not one to deny him. go little man.  
> anyway a few days later kageyama, the only other expert in the field, unknowingly brings a team of mercenaries to atlantis. shit goes down. kageyama, and also tsukishima who was with him (the rest of karasuno being atlanteans even though they don't show up here), change sides. beautiful yamaguchi turns into a beautiful magic rock. hinata discovers the flying fish machines and has the time of his life. oikawa is saved by the power of friendship, and also the fact that if a villain falls from a cliff that’s literally hundreds of miles up above the ground not even their monstrous greed or anime logic can save them. fun times. then yamaguchi becomes a human again bcse everything is a-ok and oikawa can finally kiss them (pretty great).
> 
> hope you enjoyed! kudos and comments fill the Please Appreciate Them jar i’m shaking rn


End file.
